Can you believe it? We woke to a perfectly still morning. Of course the flies liked it too, but you just have to deal with that. Here’s how Streaky Bay looks on a calm day.

Streaky Bay under a grey sky

Beautiful, isn’t it?

We packed up to head down the west coast of the Eyre Peninsula. First we check the surf break at Granites, and I’d have to say I’ve never seen John untie the boards from the roof any quicker. The ocean was glassy and the waves were sweet.

The car park was full, but that means there were only about a dozen others going for the same wave. They were mostly in the ‘old dude’ category, and they weren’t the cranky locals John had back at Cactus. It was even sunny sometimes, but the sky was menacing with the wind to come. If this had been at home, there would have been 60 guys on the water.

Here’s a few shots from the morning.

And sometimes it was not a pretty exit off the top of the wave.

This is the ‘head first’ re-entry technique

And I’m adding in Ferg’s favourite tube ride.

Fergus and Harry took most of the photos, but also entertained themselves on the granite boulders along the shore.

The wind eventually changed and spoiled the party. John was the last one out of the water, and we were the last car in the car park.

No one in their right mind would enjoy a day with this much wind. But we don’t have a caravan to hide inside, so we went in search of a protected bay for a dive. We drove here and there, round and round, and were about to throw the towel in when we found a wave to surf in Sceale Bay (pronounced scale). The wind was still howling, but the dunes protected the water just enough to make it a sure thing. I even went for a swim! I have no photos of this beach, as the sand was bound to have seized up my camera. And the flies. Have I mentioned the flies? They are having a bumper breeding season. They love getting inside your glasses. They stick like glue. They are in plague proportions. We are not enjoying the flies. Just had to get that off my chest.

We came back for a customary late lunch and the boys retreated to the kids’ games room, which was behind a flyscreen. John and I stood knee deep in the knee deep water, as you would expect, where the flies don’t go. Streaky Bay is one very shallow bay, and it must be a good 500m till the water gets past your knees. So we just stood there, yacking with a lovely Nomad from Shepparton.

It was time for action, so the boys took the kayak out and paddled off for a dive. I met them down on the jetty in town. They collected 4 razor fish. These are a weird kind of mollusc, in a fan shape, about 25-30cm long. You crack them open like a scallop or a mussel, and the flesh is quite like an abalone. John cooked up the small harvest in garlic and oil, and it was yummy!

After all the awful wind, I had quite forgotten to get anything out of the freezer for dinner. Oh dear. We had to go to the pub for dinner. It was a lucky thing that everyone coped okay with that.

There was much chewing of the fat today, as the wind blew away any chance of a good surf. Or any surf, actually.

Surf Patrol

Here at Cactus, they say you come for a day and stay for a week, or you come for a week and stay for a day. The thing that makes Cactus different to the others is the set of rules that Ron uses to run his place. There are no surfing contests held here, no commercial tours, no professional photography or video, and nothing to be published about the surf here on the internet – or anywhere else. This means that over the past couple of decades, Cactus is much less spoken of, and perhaps much less visited. I think the locals like it that way.

We moved on today, in search of more fun. We passed through the Quarantine Station at Ceduna where we had the remains of our fruit and vegetables confiscated. At least we knew it was coming this time. Although there’s not many opportunities for fresh food shopping on the Nullabor, so we didn’t have much left anyway. Ceduna marks the end, or the beginning – depending on your personal compass, of the crossing of the Nullabor. We then headed south down the Eyre Peninsula to Streaky Bay. This is about 110km from Ceduna where the landscape is primarily rural cropping.

There’s just the one caravan park in Streaky Bay, so we picked that one. By the time we had our lunch, the Grand Final had started, and by half time it was not very interesting. I think all those expensive flights and all those cars full of Western Australians will have a rather quiet journey home. So we jumped in the car to explore the region.

Smooth Pool – looking not very smooth

We drove around the area, including Cape Bauer, The Granites (where there was no surf), Point Westall, and Yanerbie Beach.

From Yanabie Beach towards Cape Blanche

We made our way back to Streaky Bay where the local fishermen were cleaning their fish on the beach. I should mention that the politically correct term is ‘fishers’ not fishermen. It might take me a while to get used to that.

Pelican’s dinner time at Streaky Bay

The pelicans were well fed on fish guts and scraps today. They wanted to eat Harry too.

John was up early as usual and grabbed a few waves at first light. It wasn’t great, but he had it to himself till the grumpy locals turned up. And then the wind turned.

We spent the day around camp, but added in some sand dune action….

And some rock collecting……

There was much surf checking, some sun baking, and a walk out to the point. Fergus and John went in for a desperado surf at the end of the day, and that was it till sundowners.

There’s a place on the map called Point Sinclair. It’s south of Penong, off the Long Straight Road. About 20km. But if you have been touched by the surfers of the world, or you actually live in their world (that’s me), then you know it as Cactus. It’s a bunch of waves that are yet another Holy Grail. The road here passes more huge sand dunes. You could be forgiven for thinking you were in Saudi Arabia. There’s a causeway across a lake – one side is pink with algae and the other isn’t! Belligerently, it’s called the Blue Lake.

The Blue (and pink) Lake

Back in the 70’s, soon after the waves here were discovered, surfers would flock here for weeks at a time. The area along the coast and the dunes became feral, with no toilet facilities, and no tracks to contain the campers. The place was in danger of being loved to death. In 1986 Ron Gates bought the place – 550 Ha of the whole cape – and has created a clean and well maintained place to camp, which will preserve the dunes and the fragile eco system. He has hand built numerous toilet shelters and wind shelters out of local stones, made roads and fenced off sensitive areas. He cleans the toilets, delivers fire wood, and empties the bins himself. He likes a chat too. In just 45 minutes we learnt about his fight to create a marine sanctuary reserve, a recent visit to Cactus by Kelly Slater, what he thinks of the mayor in Ceduna, what is was like there in the 70s, and his divorce. And there was more.

Our camp at Cactus, with one of Ron’s hand built wind shelters and fire places.

But back to the waves. The wind was not cooperating today, but the swell was there. Maybe tomorrow.

An uncooperative Cactus.

We did some relaxing, if you can believe that. Fergus and Harry spent ages scouring the camping area for lizards and skinks. They found this stumpy tailed lizard and brought him back to camp to show us.

Right on the point is Port Le Hunte. It’s a beautiful protected bay with a netted swimming enclosure. This was built after a young boy was taken by a white pointer shark while swimming here. Sharks had never been seen here before that.

In fact, the sharks here have a bad reputation. A surfer lost his life here to a shark in 2000 at Cactus beach. The numbers of surfers visiting dropped off immediately, and is now only back to half of what the visitor numbers were before the attack.

The bore water shower is a cold one, but it was just what we needed to wash away the dirt. We finished the day just like the nomads, with a sundowner or two.